


Hips Don't Lie: The (Water) Dancing Duo

by chas723



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Water Dancing is actual dancing, Cameos by various Stark children, Eddard mentions, F/M, Fluff, but also slightly insane, no one dies, unusual!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7113928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chas723/pseuds/chas723
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which water dancing is actual dancing, Arya and Gendry are (hormonal) teenagers, all the Stark children are happy and alive, and Hot Pie is still Hot Pie. </p><p>Syrio Forel mentors two awkward high schoolers as they deal with the ups and downs of fluffy, blossoming young love. </p><p>The sun may come up tomorrow morning, but not today--so dance like there is no tomorrow. Get twirling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> I just really, really wanted to write a fluffy fic for these two! (: 
> 
> I apologize if the setting is a little too far-fetched for some tastes; I did, however, try to incorporate as many of their original character elements as possible without overcomplicating the storyline. 
> 
> I appreciate you taking your time to read this, really! Let's see where this adventure takes us. Choo-choo.

"With passion! With flair! _Feel_ the energy ride up your spine!" Mr. Forel's voice boomed over the speaker.

Arya's hips hurt. Her hips had never been meant to roll, twirl, or shimmy. No. They had been meant for _none_ of those things, and as far as she was concerned, there was no way in seven _hells_ that she was actually dancing to Rihanna's "S &M" in a classroom full of other sweaty high schoolers. Of course, the fact that Hot Pie was bouncing enthusiastically in the corner of her eye made it really very difficult for her to deny what was happening.

Swiping sweat off of her hair, she wondered what she had done wrong this time to end up in such a predicament. Half-heartedly mimicking Mr. Forel's salsa step, she turned her head to the left and found her answer. Gendry. 

"Gendry Waters, I am going to _skin_ you," Arya ground through her teeth, her words as scalding as her sweating forehead.

"C'mon, Arry! It's not that bad," Gendry laughed between two big huffs. The crowd was shuffling to the right. "It's kind of enjoyable, if you get into it." His eyes crinkled in a smile. 

Arya narrowed hers in return and almost stuck out her tongue, too, as Rickon likes to do at the end of every quarrel. She stopped herself in time, however, to hold onto what little dignity she had left. Gendry, of course, didn't let that opportunity slide. As he leaned into his next side-step, he reached out and give Arya's stomach a brisk nudge. "And besides, the scones were kind of worth it," he grinned.

Arya's hand flew instinctively to his wrist in a flash and caught it between her fingers. Her scowl, however, eased a little.

 _Okay_ , so maybe the scones were kind of worth it.

When average kids, or averagely out-of-line kids, get sentenced to detention, it's usually for normal, run-of-the-mill offenses. Sleeping in class, per se. Or being late to class. Skipping class. Something of that sort. And usually, those kids get to enjoy normal detentions with normal punishments, such as sitting in grimy old office chairs for an hour after school. When Arya, Gendry, and Hot Pie got written up for detention, on the other hand, they ended up being supervised by the new dance teacher, fresh from Braavos. The three culprits had been caught sneaking out scones from their history teacher's office. Well, to be clear, they had decided to sneak out scones from their history teacher's office, and then Hot Pie decided to take a little too long marvelling at their shapes and embellishments. Then Gendry decided to  _let him_ , because he wanted to see the shapes, too. (He really was a horrible look-out. She would keep that in mind next time.) The scones had been shaped like different animals, ranging from lions to wolves. Although the three of them had only managed to cram in two bites each before being dragged out to the halls, the scones had been delicious. A little too sweet, maybe, but what else could they have expected from old Mr. Pycelle?

 And, okay, to be entirely honest, maybe Arya was starting to enjoy the whole dancing thing a little. Over the last half-hour, she had discovered that she could make movements that somewhat resembled dancing. Really, that had been a surprise. And if she really put her mind to it, she thought she could even feel the beat echoing across the room and thumping in her chest.

'Seven hells,' Arya's face scrunched up as she realized what she had been thinking. ' _Really? Dancing?_ You could have chosen a million things as your life's passion, and you pick dancing? For sneaking scones?'

Gendry noticed her frown, and sensed an incoming punch. It had grown to be a talent of his--a survival mechanism, of sorts.

" _Had_ to get you the wolf one, M'lady," he joked pleasantly as he spun his arm over Arya's head, her grip still locked on his wrist, sending her into an unexpected twirl. It was far from graceful, to say the least, but she couldn't help but laugh out of sheer surprise. Mr. Forel's accented bellow grew louder at the front of the room. He was clearly excited by these sparks of spontaneity his pupils were displaying.

As Arya skidded to a stop, she glanced up, her glimpse meeting Gendry's.

"Do _not_ call me M'lady," her eyes squinched into two crescent moons as she laughed. Only Gendry Waters would be allowed to get away with such an offense, she promised herself. Then suddenly, she felt the floor disappear from her underneath her legs.

"Hot Pie!" They yelled, a tangle of arms and legs, sprawled on the dirty classroom floor.

"Oh, S-sorry guys," he wobbled, genuinely unsure of what to do. He had only been faithfully following Mr. Forel's steps, and had driven himself straight into his friends.

"Ow-," they complained, rubbing the back of their heads.

"Get me up," Arya reached out to Hot Pie with one hand, pushing Gendry onto his elbows with the other.

"Shoulda' looked," Hot Pie grumbled as he hauled her up. That earned him a kick to his shin.

"Dumbasses," Arya heard one of the jocks mutter in their direction through his thick chewing gum.

 That would have lit her fuse on any other day. But on this particular day, the jock happened to be giving his best efforts at shuffling, despite the overwhelming bulk of his muscles. She was pretty sure she would let this one slide. She looked down at Gendry's sheepish smile. Yeah, she would forgive this one.

 

*

 

Gendry, Arya, and Hot Pie were the last ones to leave.

The two twirlers had been given permission to rest after their fall. They were crouched next to each other, backs to the wall, and knee-to-knee. She half-rested her head on Gendry's shoulder. It was sweaty, but the gesture eased the pulsing in her temples a little. It was comforting. She was sweating, too, but she knew he wouldn't mind. They had spent so much time running away from people (mostly the younger Stark siblings, angry teachers, and angry older Stark siblings) together that it had become somewhat of a natural resting formation now. By the time detention ended, they were already engrossed in an argument about dinner.

"Just come over," Arya groaned, "We're making mac n' cheese, and you practically live with us anyway."

"Jon won't be there tonight, though," Gendry replied. "And neither will Robb! They're the only ones that can come close to cooking." That earned him a punch. 

"We can, too! You watch. No--you cook." Arya quipped.

"Not very convincing, Arry," Gendry grinned.

 The room had suddenly fallen quiet, so they looked up from their alcove. Everyone, except the three of them and Mr. Forel, had gone home. At the front of the room, Mr. Forel had switched the speaker off and was wiping it down with a cloth. It was thin, sleek, and fit easily into the silver case that Hot Pie was holding up.

'Much for an inconspicuous escape,' Arya thought.

She had an uneasying feeling that Mr. Forel had been eyeing the two of them ever since they had so ceremoniously caught his attention. She gave Gendry a warning look. He had already been giving her one. Hot Pie--well, Hot Pie would have to be the distraction. He would make it out alright. Actually, it seemed like he was rather eagerly vying for a dancer apprentice position.

Sending him a silent thanks, the two of them stood up on their tiptoes and began sneaking to the back door. Arya held her breath and managed to glide out through the small opening. Gendry's chest, however, nudged the door slightly as he walked through sideways, and the hinges creaked in annoyance.

"Children," Mr. Forel called, clearing his voice and drawing out the word, pitch rising expectantly towards the end. They could not help but turn their heads back.

He held up his left hand, and flicked his fingers two times in his direction. 

Something in his poise told Arya that running away would not be an option against this dancing master. She fell in step behind Gendry as he began to cautiously approach the front, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Hot Pie.

"I am Syrio Forel," he introduced himself, with such assuredness behind his confident voice that Arya could just see him standing on one toe, balanced exactly on the golden line between poise and flair. "And I will be your dancing master. Let me teach you the art of the water dance."


	2. Chapter 2

Okay. So, in the year or so Gendry had attended King's Landing High, he had learned a couple of things. Well, three things, to be exact. Two conditions and one guarantee. As long as he stayed quiet--and stayed _buff--_ he could avoid the brunt of trouble. It was for not only his good, but also for his friends'. Hot Pie, in his clumsy but sure ways, always managed to wander into some incident or another. Arya was a different story. Commotion always seemed to find her, so much so that it almost seemed drawn to her. In either case, both Hot Pie and Arya trusted Gendry's outwardly commonness (and his exceptional build) for cover. And perhaps because he had stuck to this personal rule, Gendry had landed the impression that King's Landing was pretty ordinary, for a high school, at least. Of course, high school meant cliques, drama, and bullies, but as long as they didn't hurt him or his friends, he could deal with that.

Gendry liked ordinary. Enjoyed ordinary. Ordinary was comforting. 

Unfortunately, Mr. Forel seemed to be leading them further from ordinary with every step. Dread pulled at the bottom of Gendry's stomach like a boulder. 

Arya's shoulder softly nudged into his side as she shifted in closer to him. He could feel her frame buzzing with excitement. He knew he should be worried about that, but who was he kidding, at this point, even Arya's excitement was a welcome trace from the ordinary life he used to lead. Arya was enjoying the adventure. For Gendry, on the other hand, the damp smell of the old yellow hallway was making it really very hard to shut the panic out from his eyes. Arya noticed. Her chin set into place, and her brown eyes wrinkled ever so slightly. 

'Sorry I got you into this mess,' they seemed to say. 

Gendry softly shook his head. His strong shoulders fell with a small sigh. On second thought, he really wasn't surprised anymore. He had accompanied Arya on enough escapades from angry football linemen to learn that it was just easier to defenestrate all hopes of "ordinary" when he was with her. This is just how life went with them. 

 

*

 

"Okay," Gendry drew out the word. It bought him a couple seconds to think. Unsurprisingly, it didn't really help. "Sorry, wait, what?" Mr. Forel was speaking, his legs swinging over the edge of the table he was resting on, but whatever he was saying wasn't registering very well.

To Gendry's left, Arya was rolling on the balls of her feet. The shifting pressure on her soles were comforting. It was a habit she'd picked up when she was a kid, and it came out whenever she had to think or prepare for some impending danger. The nerves in her ribs tingled and her shoulders tensed, because Gendry stuttering was really stirring up her nerves. "Talking-to-normal-people duty" usually fell to Gendry. When he failed, there really wasn't much help she could offer. On second thought, Arya wasn't sure if negotiating with Mr. Forel counted as talking to normal people. Strangely, she found a little comfort in that. 

Arya was drawn out of her musings by the uneasy suspicion that Mr. Forel was carefully watching her feet, still rocking back and forth. 

"Child," he said, calling Arya's chin up. There was a soft pause. "With the proper guidance, you would excel in the art," he said, slowly. "You have the balance. You the have concentration. But most of all, you have the willpower," he said, and his eyes met hers. 

His gaze was sure, and focused. It was firm, but not imposing. It was solid. Warm. Yet wild. 

Something began to ache inside her chest, and she knew what was coming. She felt sweat line her palms, and her hands slowly clenched into fists. Mr. Forel's eyes reminded her of someone she hadn't seen in a long time, and thinking about it hurt. She knew it was being immature, she knew it, she knew she should suck it up, but the pang in her stomach wouldn't go away. Then, Gendry spoke. "So," he stretched again, then paused. "So, we join a dance team? Is that what you're proposing, Mr. Forel? Sorry, sir, I'm just really not understanding at-"

Arya cut him off. "Who're you?" she asked, the words biting. She wasn't sure why Mr. Forel's observations caused so much anger, so much bitterness, and so much frustration, but there was a fire building at the back of her tongue. "Who're you to say all that, I mean?" she cut. "You met me an hour ago. You don't know me, you don't know us. So how do you know?," she asked. "How do you know if I have balance, or concentration, or willpower, or whatever?" she bit as sardonically as she manage. She allowed herself to let off just a little bit of the steam she had been bottling up in the past months.  

At that, Mr. Forel's deep eyes softened a little. It was still kind, still firmly gentle, but it was softer. She immediately regretted having lashed out, and her cheeks burned hot, but she knew she was not one to pick fallen words back up. Before she could say anything else, Gendry gently set his calloused fingertips on her arms. "Arya-," he began, sympathetically. 

Mr. Forel picked up the short silence. "Because, child," he said. "I am from Braavos," he paused, then continued, slowly, emphasizing every syllable. "I observe, and I see. I see what is there, and I see fire in you," he concluded, a steady finger pointing at her nose. For a brief, silent moment, two silently stared at each other, and the air around them vibrated. "In addition," he said offhandedly as he pushed himself off of the table, "Syrio Forel also happens to be the best, the finest and the swiftest water dancer to hail from the beautiful city of Braavos." His two feet hit the ground at the exact same time, as if perfect balance and grace came intuitively for him. He wiped his black curls away from his forehead, and Arya caught some current, some energy skipping in his eyes. "Would you not like to learn how that came to pass?" He inquired, the subtlest smile poised on his cheeks. 

 

*

 

Gendry didn't know what to make of this. He really didn't. 

He was at the head of a herd of eleven or so students, along with Arya and Hot Pie, but he, in all honesty, had no idea where they were headed. The only thing he cared about at the moment was his second personal rule, which was that Gendry should always be at Arya's side when she was having her bouts of madness. And, really, the situation was undoubtedly starting to look like madness. 

First of all, there was Yoren, the janitor. 'No,' Gendry reminded himself. 'Not the janitor. The Chief Watcher of Sanitation.' That was, at least, how he had been introduced by Mr. Forel.

In a school as sizeable as his, most students never noticed the cleaning staff. Gendry, however, was a little more observant. It was a need-based thing. Gendry, Arya, and Hot Pie had mastered the supply closet layouts a long time ago. They were nice, quick hiding places from teachers, bullies, or Arya and Hot Pie's tail of the day. They always managed to find someone new, "in case Gendry got bored." Gendry was usually assigned look-out duty, which gave him more time then he would have ever asked for to familiarize himself with the signs of approaching janitors. He had even developed a sense of who was gruff, who was easygoing, who would stop by for short banter and who would whisk their equipment by, not sparing his friends a glance. 

In a strange way, Gendry had always been a little intimidated, a little afraid, and a little reverent of Yoren, all at the same time. He was usually silent and reserved, borderline stoic, but there was something about the way he held his shoulders and the way his face was framed by heavy lines that made Gendry stare a little too long. Yoren was middle-aged, but in his eyes Gendry found solid, unadulterated strength. Sometimes, and it was a passing thought, Yoren's eyes reminded him of two spheres of solid iron. 

And yet, there the man was, herding a group of eleven high school misfits down a old hallway, marching next to Mr. Forel, who was bouncing as easily as if he was on his morning stroll. As if he took bizarre trips like these in the place of morning espressos. 

Gendry was lurched out of his thoughts by the sound of heels skidding to a stop against the linoleum floor. They had reached a plain looking wooden door, painted matte white all the way down. It was the first door they had seen in the long stretch down the hallway. Arya paused next to him, her lithe frame leaning slightly forward. Mr. Forel's was turned away from the group, but the muscles on his back flexed ever so slightly, radiating almost palpable eagerness. Metal keys, small and big, rusty and silver, clattered in Yoren's hands as he felt for the one he needed. 

Mr. Forel forced the door open with a nudge. As Gendry stepped inside, the stuffy air slammed full-on into his face. It took a couple coughs and scrubs of his hands until he could see coherently through the puffs of disturbed dust. When his eyes cleared, however, he had to let out another cough, this time out of surprise. The room was breathtaking. It was the largest he'd ever seen around the school--the wooden floor stretched out over what should have been three, four classrooms combined. 

'How in the holy-' Gendry wondered to himself, before he realized he was facing a dimly-lit reflection of his own figure. Three of the four expansive walls were covered entirely with mirror panels. This was a dance studio. 

"Holy Father," was all Gendry had time to whisper to Arya before Mr. Forel stepped his left foot behind his right, and whirled around to face the crowd. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading, you guys! (: And the sweet comments, thank you for those, too. I sincerely hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> It gets weirder from here. More groovey. They'll start dancing soon. Drop the beat. I don't know.
> 
> Onward!


End file.
